Fear and Loathing
by Azami-Thistle
Summary: Set in early season three. Only two return from the Others camp. Jate one shot, although Jack doesn't feature directly in the fic. Allusion to Skate.


Most of them resented her. A lot of them shunned her, some because they didn't know what to say. Others because they didn't want to say it. Some pretended to sympathise but couldn't understand. Fewer still were kind.

Sun was of the smallest group. Consoling words, kind looks. Kate was grateful but not consoled. Not in the slightest. Words meant little. That's what she thought, what she told herself. It didn't matter how much Sun said that she understood, that either way it would have been difficult, that it would be okay. The protective unconscious hand on her stomach, told Kate otherwise. Sun had to think about herself and her child, which is why she couldn't understand. When it comes down to it she wouldn't of made the same choice.

Jin is less understanding. Kate does not blame him. He has a future family to think of. He has the air of someone who has been henpecked into doing something unwanted. He stands stiffly, too formal. It's obvious what choice he would have made. Yes he would have struggled. He would have found it hard. Would have felt guilty. But like Sun he would have come to the 'logical' decision. The one they all, even those who do not say it, think she should have made.

Hurley is the only one who had understood. He had cried when he had found out. He was prone to tears now. No longer happy go lucky. Not since that day on the pier. He would come and sit with her for long periods when nobody else even looked in her direction. Sometimes he would sit in companionable silence with her. Other times he did his best to reassure her. 'He would understand' and 'he wouldn't blame you' were popular. She was not convinced. Any thought of him felt like a knife twisting in her gut. He stopped this after a time, realising that it caused her more pain then peace. They came to an unspoken pact, no talk of Libby, no talk of him. It was better that way, less painful for them both.

Charlie was angry and did not hide it. It had been a tirade at first. She had been irresponsible, she should of thought of Claire and Aaron not to mention Sun, what about the rest of them too? She had been selfish. Her choice didn't make sense. Why had she done it? She was insane. It had been obvious. She had been wrong. She had stood taking it. She wanted to be punished. She deserved to be punished. Claire did not agree. She stopped him. She dragged him away, looked apologetic. He avoided her from then on, stayed with Claire and her child. They were a family now.

Sayid acted professional, he did not judge her. He had his own agenda. He wanted information. He listened to every detail. Hours were passed that way. She was glad of the distraction. He tried to reassure her in his own way, but he was fixed on revenge as much as rescue. He never gave her his opinion. Unlike everyone else. She wanted to know. He looked at her seriously but sadly. Wrong, but she already knew that didn't she? She nods. He understood.

Rose is motherly. Bustles around, bringing food, water, supplies. Bernard traipses after her helplessly, following her example. She sees Locke rarely. He never gave her his opinion. He asks her one day if she wants to hunt and track with him. She understands the gesture but declines. Eko says a lot of stuff about faith, and prayer. She tells him she's immune but thanks him anyway.

She spends all of her time at the beach, at her tent. She can see his tent in the distance. Unlike those belonging to the rest of the lost or departed it has been left untouched. A symbol of hope. They haven't given up on his return. She had. Not a symbol of hope to her but a reminder of her weakness. Her betrayal.

Sometimes the sight of it is suffocating. She gets up and walks. Ignores the stares. Feigns deafness at the muttering, like the buzzing of angry bees. She goes to the graves. Always silence there. Only Hurley and Sayid ever visit.

From afar she thinks she sees a person standing there, alone. Nobody there, when she draws close. But a tell tale cigarette butt tossed aside. Sawyer. She knew why he had been at Ana's grave. It was strange how sentimental a conman could be about a solitary screw. He thought she didn't know about that. She had known straight away, she had read it on his face. He thinks he's enigmatic, she can read him like book. It's a familiar story.

He's avoiding her. She's not surprised. In the few days that they've been back, she hadn't seen him once. Not since that first day. Her choice had left him open to bitterness and resentment too...

"Why?"

His voice is harsh, as if he's only just become accustomed to using it again.

It was night. She had been sitting outside her tent as usual. Ignorant of the darkness and cold. She cannot see him but senses him somewhere off to her right.

"Why?" Sawyer asked again, his voice sounded choked." Why did you choose me?" It was the question that she knew had been haunting him.

"Because I love him"

He laughed. An uncontrollable, almost manic laugh. He understood. That's why she could tell him. He shook his head in disbelief and pity. Yes, only he could understand that level of self loathing.

He sat by her now, put his arm around her and pulled her close. She didn't fight him. He could feel her shaking as she cried.

"I thought when you loved someone you were supposed to set them free?" he chuckled humourlessly.

Her voice was so quiet he almost didn't catch her response. Maybe he wasn't supposed to.

"I did".


End file.
